


What Happens at Housewarming Parties

by istie



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Buzzfeed Challenge, F/M, Multi, Ouija, eventual Shyanara, first apartment together, other Buzzfeed employees present as cameos, otherworldly happenings, spoon thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-04-08 07:08:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14100060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istie/pseuds/istie
Summary: Shane and Ryan move in together, because it's convenient.  Of course, the universe is never that accommodating, nor that simple.  (Written for March Buzzfeed Challenge: First Experiences!)





	1. The Spoon Thing

Their first apartment together was a two-bedroom, because the suite had unexpectedly come available precisely when both their leases had been ending, and it just made sense. It was close to the offices, it was perfectly in their price range, and it even had in-suite laundry. No apartment in LA had in-suite laundry for that price. (This really should have been a red flag, in hindsight.) They both murmured about Helen and/or Sara moving in with them, if they wanted to, once their own leases were up. (Sara liked the idea, but Helen preferred a little more space, and wasn't convinced.)

They moved in in a rush between shoots for Unsolved, and really had no chance to unpack. Those first few weeks were spent amongst cardboard boxes – both the moving variety and the take-out variety. Ryan tore a pile apart in the middle of week two, looking for a microphone attachment, and it stayed a disaster until the middle of week four, when Sara came over to help edit a Ruining History script and stopped dead in the doorway.

"... I've already invited you in," Shane joked, standing behind her and looking over her shoulder at the room, which was flooded with sunshine from the uncurtained window, "madam vampire." When Sara didn't respond, still staring, he nudged her shoulder – he was holding the bags of takeout which were going to be their dinner and they were kind of heavy – and said, "Sara?"

She remained silent for a second, then finally said, "Have you guys...been living like this?"

Shane looked over the apartment. "Well...yes?"

Sara shook her head and walked in slowly. "Jesus."

Shane followed her in, curved himself into an arc to sidestep her and get into the kitchen, and put the bags down on the counter. "It's not that bad. We just haven't had time to unpack."

"It's been a month!" Sara exclaimed, tearing her eyes away from the piles of boxes and coming to help him set up dinner: Chinese tonight, mixing it up from their usual Chipotle. "How are you surviving?"

Shane shrugged. "We each have a duffel of clothes for shoots, we dug out the recording equipment – everything else has been kind of secondary. Honestly, we've barely even been here." They both heard keys jingling outside the door. Shane called out, "It's open!" The door creaked and Ryan came in, beelining for the kitchen. "Hey Ry," Shane said, "Sara's making fun of us."

Ryan grabbed the plate Sara offered him, and grinned. "Oh? What now?"

Shane, filling his plate with bok choy and beef strips, nodded towards the living room. "She thinks we're living in sin."

Sara burst out laughing and nearly choked on a bean sprout as she made her way into the living room. "Well _that's_ a little extreme." She settled onto the floor, cross-legged, and looked up at them in the kitchen doorway. "I'm just a little shocked that you're both managing to live in this insanity."

Ryan joined her on the floor. "We just haven't had time."

Shane sat down against the wall, stretching one leg out and bending the other. "That's what _I_ said."

Sara shook her head, swallowed her mouthful of chow mein, then spoke again. "I'm calling in help. Friday night." She put her plate down and pulled out her phone, bringing up Discord and flipping to the Buzzfeed server. "We're getting this shit done."

Ryan frowned. "We're not here Friday, we're out shooting until seven."

Sara fixed him with a look. "Do you trust me, Ryan Bergara?"

Ryan blinked. "Well, I mean, yeah, of course."

Sara looked back at her phone. "Then you'll come home Friday night to a housewarming party. My boys are not living out of boxes, I won't stand for it."

Shane and Ryan looked at each other across the room. Ryan raised an eyebrow, a silent _you think it'll work?_ Shane shrugged and motioned towards Sara with his head: _if anyone can do it, it'll be her._

* * *

Five o'clock on Friday afternoon saw a veritable caravan of vehicles converge on Ryan and Shane's new apartment. No fewer than a dozen coworkers had generously donated their time to help the ghoul boys unpack – though both Ryan and Shane suspected the real draw was the housewarming party that Sara had promised.

The plan was thus: Keith, Ned, Andrew, and Zack were on furniture and box-moving duty; Quinta and Kelsey were in charge of arranging the living room; Helen and Sara were unpacking their respective boyfriends' bedrooms and the bathroom; and Ariel, Eugene, and Steven would take the kitchen. Ryan and Shane had been strictly instructed to meet Zach and Adam at eight o'clock to help transport food from the Tasty studios. ("Holy shit," Ryan had said. "Sara's fucking magic." Shane had laughed. "Nah," he'd replied, "she's just _very_ good at finding out who's got extra, and where, and when. Plus, she's cute and stubborn as a mule: no one can say no to her.")

It was eight-thirty when Ryan parked his Prius and they all piled out, laden with packages of food and cases of beer. Ryan just about dropped his packages out of shock when he opened their door and was greeted by a completely unpacked and arranged apartment: almost a dozen of his friends and coworkers hanging out (several with drinks already in hand; he suspected Eugene and Kelsey had brought at least one bottle each of _some_ thing). And, as he opened the door, they all looked up, cheered, and raised their glasses if they had them, with a loud shout of "Welcome home!"

The warmth he felt _almost_ eclipsed the exasperation of discovering that Sara had arranged for the Tasty studios to send an honest _shit-ton_ of...Hot Daga-themed food. (Though, he had to admit – under duress, of course, and he'd deny it in a court of law – the ingenious plupple-flavoured condiment they'd come up with for the hot dogs was incredible.)

Midnight rolled around, then one, then one-thirty, and they were waving goodbye to the more responsible of their co-workers (the Worth It crew, Ned and Ariel, and funnily enough, Zack) when Kelsey (who was three sheets to the wind) discovered something she herself had put on the bookshelf in the living room hours earlier: "Holy _fuck_ Ryan you have a _Ouija_ board?" she half-shouted, pulling it off the shelf and setting on the coffee table.

Ryan, closing the door behind Quinta (who'd left on the heels of the Fulmers) was about to laugh and reply when Shane interrupted him: "Yeah, I gave it to him for his birthday last year. Open it up, it's really fancy and shit."

Kelsey squealed and opened the box, taking out the board: it was inlaid maple and walnut, the planchette an intricately carved teardrop in birch. Both elements featured gorgeous fleur-de-lis patterns in stunning contrast, and the lettering on the board was a flowing French script – also inlaid, but in mother-of-pearl. Eugene sat down beside Kelsey and whistled. "Wow, man," he said, "that's beautiful. Where'd you find it?"

Shane grinned. "Flea market in New Orleans. Couldn't pass it up. Now Ryan lives with an ultra-fancy demon-summoning commercial board game on his bookshelf."

Ryan rolled his eyes and joined Kelsey and Eugene on the couch. "It's a piece of art, dude."

"Then why do you keep salt and iron filings in the box?" Shane teased.

"It's a reasonable precaution!" Ryan shot back.

"Let's play it," said Sara, leaning on the kitchen doorframe.

There was a moment of silence. Ryan looked like he was trying to find the most polite way to say "no way, fuck you, not a chance in hell" when Zach jumped in and exclaimed affirmatively, leading the rest of them to also chime in with yeses and "oh this will be fun". Shane's grin grew even wider, reaching impressive levels of shit-eating, and Ryan's face grew paler.

Five minutes later, the six remaining guests – Zach, Keith, Eugene, Kelsey, Helen, and Sara – sat in a large circle made of emergency candles with Shane and Ryan, all of them squished around the little board. Ryan had insisted on pouring a salt circle along with the candles; Kelsey had backed him up, though it wasn't much moral comfort to Ryan as, of course, she was not precisely...sober.

"Who's starting?" asked Keith, as they all leaned in to place a finger on the planchette.

"It should be Shane or Ryan," Sara said, "since they live here. It'd only be polite."

Ryan was about to say " _not fucking me"_ , but Shane beat him to it. "Ryan should," he said, "he believes in this stuff. Well—" He smirked. "I suppose the idiomotor effect is pretty well-documented."

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan said, rolling his eyes. "Fine, okay, I'll start." He raised his eyes to the ceiling and gathered his wits. "Hello spirits," he started. "Uh...if there's anyone here, could you... Could you move the planchette to 'hello'?"

Silence. Then a shriek from Kelsey: " _Guys!!"_ The planchette was moving, slowly. "I'm not moving it!" she exclaimed, and the others murmured confirmation that they, too, were not moving it.

Ryan looked down, and immediately caught Shane staring straight at him, huge grin still plastered across his face. The planchette, pulling under his fingers, slowed to a stop over "hello", and he felt his heart sink. He swallowed, and spoke again. "Hi... Are you a friendly spirit?"

Keith groaned. "Oh, don't ask that, Ryan, what if you don't wanna know the answer?"

"No, you definitely want to know," Helen interrupted.

Sara nodded. "Better to know and do something about it than _not_ know."

"I didn't know you guys believed this stuff," Zach said with a frown.

"I'm wishy-washy," Sara replied with a shrug. "Mostly I think it's silly, but it's a lot of fun."

Helen made a noncommittal noise. "There's weird stuff in the world. I don't think we can explain it all."

Meanwhile, the planchette had continued to move, and Ryan had been watching it as it curved slowly around the board, passing over "no", pausing, and then continuing on to "yes", where it stayed.

Sara looked down. "Guess you lucked out," she said, "they're nice."

"It went over 'no' first, though," Ryan said, worrying at his lip.

Shane laughed. "Maybe they're just a little mischievous!"

Little did they know.

* * *

Six months, and a new set of cutlery later (every piece had slowly gone missing), Ryan would remember that housewarming party, and drag Shane to a psychic to find out if his skeptic roommate was a clairvoyant. The answer was a solid no, but six months after _that_ , they'd lost the tiny crystal skull Ryan had picked up in Kansas on shoot, plus Sara had started discovering she had fewer hair clips upon leaving after a visit than she'd had when they arrived.

So they moved, and Ryan insisted on cleansing the place before moving in, but over the next year they lost all their Christmas ornaments, a dozen of Sara's glittery hair clips and two pendants (she'd moved in, two months on), the screws from Shane's glasses, _another_ full set of cutlery, and an entire horseshoe.

Helen refused to move in, though she came over for visits regularly. "You have fae, man. You definitely have fae."

"Then why did the horseshoe disappear?" Ryan wailed, tugging at his hair.

"Was it real iron?" Helen asked, stirring her coffee.

"I don't know," Ryan whimpered, "I just want my spoons to stop disappearing."

"Maybe you should stop leaving them out on the counter," Shane said, walking past them to the fridge. "Anyone could take them."

Ryan squinted at his roommate. "Are you saying _you're_ the spoon thief?"

Shane looked at him, bent nearly double to see into the fridge but still tall enough to see over the door. "I live here. Why would I take the spoons?"

"I dunno, maybe you and Sara have a spoon thing... Nope, nope, I regret that comment." Ryan shook his head; Helen snickered.

Shane grinned. "I promise you we don't have a spoon thing."

"Not _listening!"_

The spoons never did stop disappearing.


	2. The Spoons Cometh and the Spoons Goeth Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah alright alright i'll keep going you've convinced me

"Why are you so chill about the spoon thing?" Sara asked Shane over breakfast one morning, idly waving her cereal spoon at him.

He swallowed his own mouthful of cereal and shrugged. "I've lost so many spoons over the course of my life it's stopped being a big deal. Things go missing around me. The sun rises every morning. Water is wet. Ghosts aren't real. It's just a fact of the universe."

Sara raised an eyebrow, crunched her Cheerios and swallowed. "I don't think that's normal, dude."

Shane got up and put his bowl in the dishwasher. "It's just entropy."

"Spoons don't just _disappear_ , Shane."

"Have we lost another one?" asked Ryan, coming into the kitchen, in sweatpants and a tight t-shirt and rubbing his bleary eyes. He always slept the latest out of the three of them. "That's three this month."

"Nah," Shane replied. "At least, I don't think so. I haven't counted."

"Well now that you've _said_ it," Sara said, testily, "there will be two gone by the end of the week." She looked at Ryan. "I was telling Shane that it's not normal for things to go missing around him. He says he's always been that way."

Ryan looked up at Shane while stirring his coffee. "... Is that why you have so many pairs of glasses?"

Shane leaned back against the counter and took a sip from his own mug. "Why yes, yes it is."

* * *

**` Group Chat: #spoonlesshouse ` **

`[13:37] ghosthunter: Helen's coming over tonight`

`[13:38] windhunter: oh okay`

`[13:38] windhunter: should we vacate`

`[13:39] ghosthunter: nah we're just gonna watch a movie, you guys are welcome to join us`

`[13:42] sweetestsara: what movie?`

`[13:42] sweetestsara: also did you guys literally change your nicknames to ghosthunter and windhunter you are the lamest beings on the planet`

`[13:55] windhunter: hey now`

`[13:55] windhunter: i resemble that remark`

`[13:55] windhunter: but yeah what movie @ghosthunter`

`[14:20] ghosthunter: sorry got called to do a taste test`

`[14:20] ghosthunter: Helen's feeling kinda down so we're thinking Disney`

`[14:22] sweetestsara: YESSSS count me IN`

`[14:23] sweetestsara: when is she coming over i wanna make dinner`

`[14:25] ghosthunter: i think she is done work at 5 so probably by 6`

`[14:30] sweetestsara: she likes brunch food yes?`

`[14:32] ghosthunter: uh huh`

`[14:35] sweetestsara: excellent`

`[14:35] sweetestsara: i am making WAFFLES`

`[14:36] ghosthunter: shane i know you're reading this chat bc i just heard you make an unholy sound about sara's waffles`

`[14:36] sweetestsara: pfffhahaha`

`[14:37] windhunter: can you blame me`

`[14:37] windhunter: they are sinfully good`

`[14:38] ghosthunter: keep your kinks in the bedroom you two`

`[14:38] windhunter: DON'T KINKSHAME ME`

`[14:38] sweetestsara: mmmm strawberry syrup you know you want some Ry *licks lips*`

`[14:39] ghosthunter: i am OUT`

`[14:40] windhunter: see you at dinner!! :D`

* * *

Sara's waffles of choice were Belgian waffles: she had her own Belgian waffle iron which she'd bought at a thrift store a couple years ago, and she could make the recipe in her sleep. She made the strawberry syrup from scratch, too, and always used real whipping cream. Making waffles was a treat, for special occasions, and Helen feeling sad one hundred percent counted.

She went home a little early, because it took a solid 90 minutes to properly make waffles, and she was determined this was going to be a good night. She stopped off to get another carton of eggs and a pint of strawberries on the way home, and saw her favourite ice cream on sale: fresh vanilla bean. She couldn't resist, and picked up a pint. It'd go amazingly on re-toasted waffles the next morning.

When she got home around 4.30, she dropped her keys on the kitchen counter— right onto ... a spoon? She stopped, frowned, and thought back to that morning. She'd been the last one out of the kitchen – she'd forgotten her tea – and that spoon definitely hadn't been there. She pulled out her phone.

`[16:32] sweetestsara: did one of you two drop by home today?`

She went about prepping for dinner, leaving her phone on the counter by the keys and the strange spoon. A few minutes later, having set the yeast mix to proof and in the middle of chopping strawberries, her phone buzzed.

`[16:45] windhunter: i didn't and ryan says he didn't either`

`[16:45] windhunter: why? everything okay?`

Sara set the knife down and looked at the spoon again.

`[16:46] sweetestsara: everything's fine`

`[16:47] sweetestsara: just`

`[16:47] sweetestsara: nah never mind it's silly`

She went back to chopping, not looking at her phone again until she'd set the saucepan to simmer with the simple syrup and the chopped strawberries bubbling away inside, and whisked the butter, vanilla, and eggs into the yeast.

`[16:48] windhunter: it's not silly if you're bothered`

`[16:55] windhunter: Sara`

`[17:00] windhunter: are you there?`

She smiled, giving the syrup a quick stir. Shane was a hell of a worrier as long as the subject wasn't ghosts.

`[17:02] sweetestsara: it's really okay Shane I'm fine`

`[17:03] sweetestsara: there's just a random spoon on the counter and I didn't remember seeing it this morning`

`[17:03] sweetestsara: threw me for a loop that's all`

`[17:04] sweetestsara: when are you guys coming home?`

`[17:05] ghosthunter: should be home @ 545`

`[17:05] ghosthunter: also Shane is adorable he was ready to leap into a car and come to your rescue`

Sara grinned. Such a softie.

`[17:06] sweetestsara: awwwwww my hero <3`

`[17:07] sweetestsara: wait you guys don't have a car there, I drove`

`[17:08] ghosthunter: he was eyeing Keith's car keys`

`[17:09] sweetestsara: omg really`

`[17:10] windhunter: shut up I was worried :(`

`[17:11] sweetestsara: it's okay honeybunches ily`

`[17:12] windhunter: ily2`

`[17:12] sweetestsara: gotta get back to the waffles, see you guys when you get home`

* * *

Sara was just finishing the whipping cream, the waffle batter almost through its rising stage and the strawberry syrup pleasantly thickened to a tasty goo, when Shane and Ryan came through the door. She turned off the hand mixer, took out the beaters, and walked into the kitchen doorway, holding them out to her boys.

Ryan got there first, snagging the beater with considerably more whipping cream on it, and walked into the kitchen while licking off the fluffy cream. "So the spoons are reappearing, hey?"

Shane rolled his eyes, took the other beater, and leaned over to give Sara a quick kiss. "No, one of us just put it there this morning, and Sara didn't notice." He grinned and slipped his fingers into her hair. "And with your terrible influence around, who can blame her for jumping to supernatural conclusions?"

Sara put her arm around Shane's waist and turned to look at Ryan. "I mean, I'm pretty sure it wasn't there this morning, I remember leaving that counter clear. But, honestly, shit happens!" Her phone began beeping, and she let go of Shane and headed back into the kitchen. "Clear out, that's the timer for the batter, I gotta start waffle-making before it loses all its poof."

Ryan let her shoo him out of the kitchen, but not before he stuck his finger in the whipping cream bowl. She swatted him on the ass as he went by, and he laughed. "I'm going, I'm going!"

While Sara made the waffles, Shane and Ryan set up the living room: cleared the coffee table (mostly papers), brought out extra pillows and blankets, set out plates and cutlery, and then as Ryan was scrolling through his Disney collection, there was a polite knock on the door.

"Come on in, Helen," Shane called, coming into the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate, which he set on the coffee table. Sara was right behind him with the other two, and they smiled at Helen as she opened the door and came in, looking a little tired and just barely disheveled – which meant that she was well and truly out of sorts.

Ryan hopped up and came over to her, skirting Shane as he headed back into the kitchen to start bringing the waffles in, and he took Helen's coat and purse, hanging them on the coat rack. "Hey you," he said, smiling. "How was the drive?"

Helen half-frowned. "Not terrible, I guess. How about you?"

"Meh. Shane spent it worrying about Sara getting attacked by spoons, that was fun."

"I did not!" Shane called from the kitchen. "I was _reasonably concerned for my girlfriend_ , Ryan."

Ryan opened his arms and Helen stepped into them, leaning her head on his shoulder and giving him a soft hug. "You feeling any better?" he asked, quietly. She shrugged a little, but didn't say anything. He gave her a little squeeze, then pulled back. "What do you want to watch?"

She tilted her head, bit her lower lip, and regarded him for a moment. "... _Tangled?_ "

Sara came through into the living room with a plate piled high with waffles, Shane following her with a pitcher of syrup and a bowl of whipped cream. "Hell yeah _Tangled!_ " Sara said, smiling brightly. "So good!"

Helen smiled, and Ryan's heart swelled. " _Tangled_ it is," he said, taking her hand. "Sara made waffles."

"I see that," Helen replied. "I love your waffles, Sara."

Sara beamed. "Let's eat!"

* * *

An hour and a half later, they were all sprawled out on the couch, most of the waffles gone, the bowl of whipped cream licked clean (no one would confess, but Shane _might_ have had a little spot of white on his cheek), and the syrup half-gone, just the way Sara liked it. Shane had one end of the couch, with one foot up on the corner of the coffee table and the other on the floor; Sara was cuddled up against him, feet tucked up underneath her. Ryan was in the other corner, with one arm around Helen; Helen had her feet up on the couch, and was covered in a super-soft microfleece blanket Sara had found in a lucky shopping trip a few months ago.

"Shane, you should sing more," Sara said. "You have such a nice voice."

Shane, who had participated in the general sing-along during the movie, looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. "Did you spike your cocoa?"

She giggled. "No. Maybe. Not much. I'm serious, though. I like it when you sing."

Ryan laughed. "Better listen to the lady."

Shane snorted. "My singing makes birds fall out of the sky, Sara. You _cannot_ be serious."

"It does not, you're exaggerating."

"It does!" he protested. "I sing and birds congregate! And then they start chirping like there's no tomorrow, I swear they have it out for me. They try to drown me out."

"You're bizarre, Shane Madej," she said, shaking her head and getting up to start taking dishes back to the kitchen.

"And you love me," he replied, kissing her hand as she got up.

"This is true," she said, "very—" She stopped cold, frowning.

"Very...what?" Shane asked from behind her.

She blinked, then looked over her shoulder at him. "...Did you bring an extra spoon in here to tease me?"

He frowned, and sat up, taking his foot off the coffee table and scooting forward. "No. I brought two spoons, one for the syrup and one for the whipping cream." He looked at the table, counting the cutlery. "...Huh. There's three."

"Seriously. I swear. You have fae," Helen said, deadpan, from behind them. Ryan snickered. "The sooner you accept this and appease them with something nicer than spoons, the better everything will go."

Shane snorted. "What, and we'll get a torrent of spoons back?"

"You might."

Sara gathered up the cutlery, frowning at the extra spoon. This was getting bizarre.


	3. Popsicles, Spoons, and Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are changing in the #spoonlesshouse: a movie night sends Sara on a journey of discovery. Also, popsicles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The latter 75% of this chapter was written for @poiregourmande, who gave me the prompt of Sharyan and popsicles. Also, this whole damn thing wouldn't exist if it weren't for the tireless cheerleading of @ghoul_ish. <3

It started slowly, so slowly Sara wasn't sure Ryan had noticed it at all. Shane hadn't, either. Her boys always were blissfully ignorant, on the whole. It was cute as hell.

Anyway. The first thing she'd noticed was at one of their movie nights. She'd put her legs up on the couch, her feet next to Ryan's thigh as she leaned back against Shane. She was, ah, short, so her feet weren't touching Ryan at all – she'd put her feet there before and he hadn't moved. But that night, he'd shifted, and had rested his arm over her ankles. She'd looked over at him, but he didn't look back: he just kept watching the movie. She put it up to just being comfortable, and paid it no mind.

Over the next few weeks, though, she started noticing him getting more open with his physical affection: Ryan had always been more of a bro type in general, and while he was quietly affectionate with Helen, he wasn't a touchy-feely kind of guy. But now, he was putting his hand on Shane's arm to get his attention, touching Sara's shoulder to move past her in the kitchen, and he even hugged her when she got home after a particularly rough day – before Shane even could. (Granted, Shane had been washing dishes. But still.)

Sara began to plan. She didn't want to assume anything, and so she needed way more info. And if Ryan wasn't doing this on purpose, she didn't want to embarrass him. So before any questions were to be asked, it was time for a bunch more observation. One of the most important things she needed to know was where he and Helen were at – which was how she found herself sitting in the booth of a little Thai restaurant, next to Shane, across from Helen. Double date, movie at their place afterwards.

She nibbled at her pad sew and watched. Helen was elegant as ever, friendly and reserved, smooth and sophisticated in her mannerisms. Ryan, every time he looked at her, clearly wanted to give her the moon: the adoration in his eyes fairly gleamed. And when Helen looked at Ryan, Sara could feel the warmth radiate from her smile. Their relationship was one of the things she truly thought beautiful in the world – over seven years together, and still one hundred percent committed to each other.

That answered _that_ , then: Ryan and Helen were still very much in love, and very happy together. So what was this new side of Ryan? Just friendly comfort from living together? It didn't feel that way, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

Later in the evening, they settled in to watch their chosen movie: they'd gone full cheese and chosen a rom-com. She and Shane took up their customary corner, but instead of Ryan taking the other corner and Helen taking the middle, _Helen_ sat in the corner, kicked off her heels (God, she was gorgeous) and put her feet up on the ottoman she pulled over from the armchair – and Ryan sat beside her, leaning back against her. Helen put an arm around him, ruffled his hair a little, and settled in.

Forty minutes into the movie, Ryan shifted position, and put his legs up on the couch…across Sara's lap. She didn't move for a moment, watching the movie as if nothing had happened. Then, once she'd satisfied herself that Ryan had had ample time to notice what he'd done, she shifted slightly as well, taking her arm off the back of the couch and putting it on his legs. She still didn't look over at him. Instead, she waited another thirty seconds – and then she casually glanced over, and unexpectedly met _Helen's_ gaze.

She was smiling. Sara blinked. Then she glanced down at Ryan's legs and her arm, then back up at Helen, and raised an eyebrow quizzically. Helen, in return, quirked her mouth into a mischievous little half-grin, gave the tiniest of nods, then turned her attention back to the movie.  
  
Sara stared at her for a moment longer, then also turned her attention to the screen, a strange warm feeling blooming in her stomach. She didn't quite have a name for it, but she kinda liked it.

* * *

Three weeks later, in the middle of the blazing California summer, Sara put her plan into action. She bid them adieu at the office, said she'd be home later (even though they were already late leaving work – long filming session, oops), and came home at eight o'clock to find Shane sprawled across the entire couch with his laptop on his stomach, and Ryan sitting in the armchair, one leg up over one of the chair arms, staring at his phone – both with earbuds in. Typical lazy Friday night. She smiled to herself and went to the kitchen, catching them both perk up as they saw her walk across their field of vision with bright white shopping bags.

Shane got there first, despite being far more horizontal than Ryan had been: he wrapped his arms around her from behind and slipped his hands into her jeans pockets, nuzzling the top of her head. “Hey baby,” he said, “what'd you get?”

Sara, taking small boxes of oranges and peaches out of the shopping bags on the counter in front of her, paused for a second to look up and give him a little kiss. “Buncha fruit.”

When she looked back down at the counter, he rested his head on top of hers lightly. “So I see. Are we getting deluxe waffles tomorrow? Kinda hot for brunch, dontcha think?”

She grinned. “Nope, not waffles.” She opened the next bag, and pulled out two bottles – a bottle of peach schnapps, and a bottle of vodka.

Shane eyed the array and raised an eyebrow. “We hosting a party?” he inquired. “What's the occasion?”

“I think we need more spoons if we're going to host a party,” came Ryan's voice from behind them both. “I think we're down to our last half a dozen.”

“Christ,” Shane said, “again? We should start casting our own at this point.”

Sara laughed. “No, we're not hosting a party.” She emptied the last bag – cranberry juice and coconut sugar – and pulled Shane's hands out of her pockets, squirming around to face him and standing on tiptoe to give him a proper kiss. “It's going to be really hot tomorrow and none of us are doing anything, so I figured … why not go to the beach?”

Shane raised both eyebrows at that and made a considering face. “A beach day? We haven't had one of those in a while. I'm down.” He let go of Sara, leaned back against the counter, and looked over at Ryan. “Sound good, man?”

Ryan nodded. “Sounds like a great plan. I'll grab us towels and sunscreen and stuff. What time do we wanna leave tomorrow?”

Sara shrugged. “Depends if these have set by morning.”

“Set?” Ryan frowned.

Understanding dawned on Shane's face. “You're making _popsicles._ “

Sara beamed. “You bet I am.”

* * *

A couple hours later, Sara downed a shot of peach schnapps as she put the trays of popsicles into the freezer and tossed the orange peels into the trash. A good evening's work, on the whole, and now time for bed. She waved at Ryan, who had taken Shane's spot on the couch about half an hour earlier and who was deeply immersed in a Wiki-wander on his latest conspiracy obsession: he waved back, not taking his eyes off the screen, as she headed for her and Shane's bedroom. Her lanky man was relaxing on the bed, sitting up against the headboard, shirtless and wearing sleep shorts, his long legs still nearly reaching the end of the bed. He was reading, the paperback in one hand and an apple in the other – he'd ghosted past her in the kitchen a few minutes earlier to grab it, kissing her ear on the way by and letting her know he was headed to bed.

She shucked her pants off, reached back under her t-shirt and unhooked her bra, sliding it out and hanging it on the back of the clothes chair before climbing up on the bed beside Shane. She nestled in beside him as he lifted the arm holding the apple to welcome her, and she settled her head against his shoulder, slipping her arm in around his back, peeking at his book and just enjoying the warmth of his broad, smooth chest. “Hey lovely,” she said, “looking forward to the beach tomorrow?”

“Mm,” he said, “you know I am.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Any chance I get to enjoy my sunshine girl enjoying the sunshine is a good day in my books.”

Sara smiled. “Glad to hear it,” she replied. “Might have a surprise for you, too,” she continued, turning her head and pushing herself up a couple inches, peppering kisses along his collarbone.

“Oh…?” he said, eyebrows rising. “What might that be?” He reached around her, bit off the last bite of his apple and set the core on the end table along with the paperback. “Should I bring anything special?”

“Mm, no, I don't think so,” she replied, continuing her trail of kisses up his neck and along his jaw, into the hollow behind his ear, along the hairline at the back of his neck, “I think just bring your wonderful self.”

He slid his hands, one vaguely cool from holding onto the apple, up along her thighs, then over her hips, and under her t-shirt, wrapping them around her ribs gently. “Unless you've got another me in the closet, there's only one, so I think that will work just fine.” He lifted her into his lap, where she straddled him and was now kissing up along his cheekbones and forehead. “You sure you want Ryan along, babe?” he inquired softly, laying kisses of his own along the underside of her jaw and down her neck, up to the collar of her t-shirt.

She didn't answer – just leaned up against him and laid her mouth over his, and the conversation was lost.

* * *

Saturday morning dawned bright and early, and with it the occupants of the spoonless apartment: Sara curled up in a little spoon against Shane's spread-eagled form, her head on his chest, tucked under his chin, one knee resting just over his hips while her other leg ran alongside his. Her eyes fluttered open as his hand came up along her back, his fingers sliding into her curly hair – he was still half-asleep, she could tell by the extra-lazy way he was touching her, slow and drowsy, his skin still warm from sleep and his chest still rising and falling evenly. She took a deep breath, and felt him twitch in response – then he was shifting, rolling onto his side, wrapping her in all four limbs and tucking his head into the crook of her neck.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she murmured into his ear.

“Mm… no,” came the slurred response. “Mm mm. Sleep time.”

She laughed softly. “Or … beach time.”

“Mmm … but … cuddles,” he replied, mouthing the words against her skin. “The world can wait, for cuddles.”

Sleepy Shane was one of Sara's favourite experiences, but today – today she had other plans. She let him cuddle her for a moment, plotting her next move, and then she stuck her tongue out, flicking just the tip of it against his ear. “But … popsicles … “ She ran the tip of her tongue along the curve of his ear, and she felt him shiver – and felt another distinct twitch in a rather different location.

To his great dismay, however, just as he moved to change positions again, she slithered out from his arms and off the bed, bare feet hitting the floor just as he groaned, “Sara, why, why would you do this to me?” His eyes opened and looked at her balefully from halfway into the pillow.

She just grinned. “Pop-si-cles!” she sang out, sing-song, a mischievous little smile on her face. She turned to head into the kitchen, and wiggled her ass at him cheekily. She couldn't help but giggle as she heard him groan behind her again.

He wasn't awake enough to realize she'd just walked past Ryan's door – which was open – in her underwear. Her grin got bigger. She'd change before either of them got too suspicious, but she figured she had about five minutes … and Ryan was definitely awake, she could hear him shifting in his bed.

For this plan to work, it really didn't hurt for both her roommates to get a good eyeful of her cute butt – so an eyeful they would get.

God, she hoped she was right.

* * *

A couple hours later, they were en route to the beach: Shane and Sara in massive sunglasses and even bigger hats, Ryan in his sport shades and ballcap, all three in loose and light beach wear with bathing suits on underneath and a change of clothes in the tote Ryan had also packed with ample amounts of sunscreen and water bottles for all of them. Sara's boozy popsicles were in a cooler in the trunk, packed with ice just to be safe, and they were cruising along, listening to whatever was on the radio.

They pulled up and unloaded, Shane carrying the cooler and picnic basket (Sara had decided they ought to be at least a _little_ responsible, so she'd made a bunch of sandwiches), Ryan carrying the beach umbrella and chairs, and Sara carrying the tote bag of clothes and towels and water bottles. They'd picked a quiet beach, one of the benefits of being long-term residents of LA – and they set up camp on a isolated bit of sand that had a great view of the ocean, a little bit of shade, and a lot of hot sun. Shane set the cooler down at the base of the single tree, Ryan stuck the umbrella in the sand and set out the chairs, and Sara laid out the big beach blanket she'd slung around Shane's shoulders – and then it was _beach time_.

Sara stretched out on the blanket, tilting her hat down, enjoying the way the light breeze played with the hem of her skirt along her legs. She watched through her shades as Shane unbuttoned his shirt (god, that long torso and those broad shoulders), stowing it in the canvas bag, and Ryan stripped off his t-shirt (god, those biceps), and they both started slathering sunscreen on themselves, giving each other a hand with their upper back – you know, the way friends do, right?

She moved her sunglasses slightly down on her nose to hide her slight smirk, and listened to the hush of the waves. She'd been smart, and put her sunscreen on before leaving, the way you're supposed to – also, there was a distinct possibility that she wasn't actually wearing her bathing suit underneath her skirt and coverup, and that was a discovery that needed very precise timing.

The longer she watched, the more she was pretty damn sure of this plan. Sure enough to let them do their own thing for a bit. She hadn't _only_ come to the beach today to tease the hell out of her boyfriend and … roommate. Hm. There was a thought. What might this actually turn into? She had Helen's blessing, but …

Nah. Not the time for thinking. She rolled over onto her stomach, put her head in her arms, and settled in for a cat nap.

* * *

She stretched and rolled back over a while later, having gotten comfortably warm in the sun. She rolled, unexpectedly, into Shane, who had stretched out beside her at some point: his knees just hit the bottom of the blanket, and his calves and bare feet were resting in the sand. He nudged her back as she rolled into him, and she huffed a little laugh.

“Good nap?” inquired Ryan, who was relaxing in one of the beach chairs, book open on his lap, water bottle in the cup holder.

“Yeah, it was great,” she answered, standing up and stretching. “How long was I out?”

“Eh, twenty minutes tops,” Ryan said, “I've barely finished a chapter.”

“Whatcha reading?” she asked, heading over to the picnic basket. “Also, want a sandwich?”

“I'd have one if you're getting them,” came Shane's voice from the blanket. “And my water, if you don't mind.”

“Sure, babe,” Sara replied. “Ryan?”

Ryan nodded, and held up the book. “Pulp mystery, true crime style. Trying to be a little too noir, you know the type.”

“Ah, yeah,” Sara said with a grin, “excellent beach read though.” She opened the picnic basket, grabbed two bagged sandwiches and handed Ryan one, dropping the other next to Shane on the blanket then going back for her own sandwich and Shane's water bottle. She then sat on the sand right across from Shane's head, crossing her legs – a _very tactical position_ , as it were – and as she saw his eyebrows raise slowly, taking in the view, she leaned forward and put his water bottle down on the blanket next to him. She lingered just for a second, the neckline of her loose coverup floating low, before she sat back and opened her sandwich.

She didn't miss the twitch – second one of the day, she thought, with no small amount of pride – and he caught her eye and licked his lips subtly before sitting up, taking a long swig from his water bottle (she felt a low ache of her own, watching his Adam's apple bob) and tucking into his own sandwich. She glanced over at Ryan, and saw him watching, a little too quietly to be coincidental. She wondered if she'd managed to flash him, too, and whether he was debating stepping out, or if he was into it, or … she'd told herself no questioning. She put the thought from her mind, and ate her sandwich.

No more than a couple minutes later, all three sandwiches were polished off, and Sara leaned back in the sand, letting the wind blow her coverup flush against her chest. Thank God for sunglasses, she thought, looking at both men through the dark lenses: they were both quiet, and both definitely watching. Ryan was _purportedly_ back in his book, but the pages weren't turning anywhere near as fast as they should be; Shane was contentedly looking off over Sara's shoulder at the ocean, but he was _also_ wearing sunglasses and so she figured he wasn't looking at the ocean at all.

It was definitely popsicle time.

Over to the cooler – she popped it open – good, they were all frozen. She took out three of the orange and pink swirled popsicles – oranges, peaches, cranberry juice, schnapps and vodka, a perfect frozen sex on the beach – and noticed, much to her surprise, that one of them had a spoon for a stick. She frowned at it briefly: she thought she would have remembered using a spoon instead of a stick. Very strange.

She turned back around, caught both of them looking away from her _rather_ quickly, and handed them each a stick, keeping the spoon-popsicle for herself. And then, she sat back down on the blanket, making sure her skirt hiked up _just_ a couple inches, leaned back on her one free hand, tilted her head back, and began to eat her popsicle as slowly, seductively, and downright _lasciviously_ as she possibly could. Long licks, full tongue out of her mouth, sucking the end of the ice pop until her lips glistened with fruit juice and alcohol and glowed red with the chill, making the tiniest of little happy sounds in the back of her throat. It _was_ a really good popsicle, after all: a perfect refreshing moment on a wonderfully _hot_ summer day.

She heard Shane clear his throat slightly, and she looked to her left. He was watching her, and he looked like he couldn't quite decide whether he was incredibly turned on, or not quite sure what to think of the whole situation. She turned another thirty degrees or so, including Ryan in her field of vision, and seeing him in much the same state, smirked to herself. “You aren't eating your popsicles,” she said, innocently, looking between them.

They instinctively looked at each other, and even behind the sunglasses Sara could see their unspoken conversation: Ryan was far more nervous, asking Shane if what seemed to be happening _really was_ happening, and if he was okay with it, and if he wanted Ryan to leave; Sara saw Shane's mouth open slightly as he watched Ryan, then he looked back at Sara. “Sara, are you…”

He trailed off into silence as she slid the entire popsicle into her mouth as slowly and deliberately as she possibly could, staring him straight in the eyes. She watched him swallow _hard_.

“Sara, I…” Ryan started, and she shifted her focus to him, cutting him off. After she was sure he knew she was watching him, she slid the popsicle back out of her mouth, even slower, letting a string of sugar and alcohol and saliva stretch between her bottom lip and the tip of the popsicle. He turned bright red.

“They're going to melt if you don't eat them,” she stated, sweet as ever, and licked her lips. Oh, she _loved_ being right.


	4. The No-Spoons Day

The morning after their beach escapade (which lasted well into Sunday) was a disaster and a half. None of them loved getting up in the morning, but they’d fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs and sheets at roughly three AM and the alarm blaring at seven AM just _hurt_. It didn’t help that it startled Ryan so badly that he elbowed Sara in the nose, which in pulling back had caused her to headbutt Shane in the chin – and so they all clambered out of bed, grumbling and rubbing sore spots, completely disregarding their bedmates’ naked bodies in favour of rushed showers and too-hot coffee.

They were all more clumsy than usual: Shane, trying to weave his long limbs around Sara and Ryan in their well-practiced morning dance, knocked the sugar bowl over, and when Sara tried to catch it she knocked a mug off the counter, which spilled right where Ryan was walking and soaked his white socks. Swears were exchanged, drawers were slammed, the sugar was left on the counter and Shane tossed a dishcloth onto the coffee on the floor while Ryan stripped his socks and went to get new ones – only to find he was out, because they hadn’t done laundry on the weekend like they usually did.

They finally got out the door at eight-forty-five, far later than they usually left, all simmering with frustration. Of course, this put them right in the middle of the worst traffic, and Ryan kept up a steady stream of foul language under his breath as he drove to the office. Shane was in the front seat, nursing the second cup of coffee, trying to answer emails; Sara was curled up in the back, staring out the window, attempting to salvage some serenity in the clouds.

They got to the office an hour later – forty-five minutes late – and immediately went to their desks. Work was no easier, as they were all tired and had, of course, not packed any lunch or even had time to properly eat breakfast. Editing was hell, emails were terse, they all said no to at least three impromptu videos which probably would have been a lot of fun, and Sara actually snapped at someone who interrupted her, which put her in an even fouler mood because she _hated_ being angry with people.

Shane ordered them all Chipotle at noon; they all appreciated the gesture, but the restaurant had mixed up the order slightly – not enough that they wouldn’t eat it, but enough to make them all sigh softly and curse this awful day. They ate in silence, then gave each other quick hugs and got back to it. Luckily, the afternoon was better than the morning, buoyed as they were by the burrito-shaped sustenance, and when they finally clocked out at five-thirty, they all just felt _tired_.

“I’ll drive,” Shane said, extending his hand to Ryan for the keys. “You dealt with morning traffic, I’ll do afternoon.”

Ryan gratefully handed over the keys. “Thanks, man. What should we do for supper?”

Sara hummed, playing with the strap of her messenger bag. “I dunno. We ate out already today, but I know none of us want to cook. What have we got in the freezer?”

Shane opened the door for Sara, then got in and started the car. “I think we have a few of those heat-up turnover things. We need to go shopping.”

Ryan groaned and did up his seatbelt. “Grocery shopping is the worst.”

Sara fell asleep on the ride home; Ryan almost nodded off too, but kept himself awake to keep Shane company on the drive through the Los Angeles traffic and heat. They made it home about six-fifteen, Sara startling awake as the car came to a stop and Shane unclicked his seatbelt.

“Sorry, hon,” Shane murmured, “didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’okay,” she yawned. “I gotta get out of the car anyway. Did we decide on supper?”

“Not really,” Ryan sighed, stretching. “Can we just call a mulligan on this day? Jesus.”

When they got up to the apartment, Shane opened the freezer while Ryan looked in the cupboards and Sara perused the fridge: they kludged together the ingredients for a quick casserole, and Ryan was putting a pot on the stove to parboil some pasta when Sara opened the cutlery drawer and swore under her breath.

“What is it?” Shane asked, from where he was dicing onion.

“All the spoons are gone. Every last one.”

Ryan frowned deeply and turned to face her. “We just ran the dishwasher last night. I unloaded it before you guys dragged me back into the bedroom. I put at least the spoons in there myself.”

Sara just gestured at the drawer. “Well I don’t know what to tell you, Ryan: they’re all fuckin’ gone.”

“I’m not saying—”

Shane put his knife down and stepped over to Sara, sliding his hands down her arms and then around her waist, turning her into him gently and beginning to stroke her back. He didn’t say anything, but after a moment Sara put her arms around him, too, and reached one hand out to Ryan, who after a moment of hesitation moved to them and hugged Sara from behind, his hands barely meeting around Shane’s back.

“God, what a day, huh?” Shane muttered, to no one in particular. “What a fuckin’ day.”

“Amen,” Sara said, muffled in Shane’s chest. “Fuck this day.”

Ryan hummed agreement, and buried his face in Sara’s curls. “Can we just… start over?”

Sara laughed a little, and Shane said, “Any suggestions?”

Ryan thought about it for a moment. “Let’s finish making supper, then while it’s in the oven I vote we get dressed in comfy-ass clothes and make a pillow fort in the bedroom. After that, we eat, then we all grab a drink and curl up in the pillow fort and watch a movie and go to bed early.”

“That sounds … amazing,” Sara said, and they all hugged a little tighter.

* * *

About an hour and a half later, while cleaning up from dinner, Sara opened the cutlery drawer again, and exclaimed loudly. Ryan almost immediately poked his head in from the living room, asking, “You okay?” with concern on his face.

“ _There’s a spoon in the drawer,_ “ Sara said, staring down at the open drawer. “ _I don’t understand._ “

Shane came into the kitchen with Sara’s fluffy housecoat, which he draped over her shoulders. “We’ll ponder the spoons tomorrow, babe. Tonight is for cuddles and cocoa. You want Bailey’s in yours?”

“…Amaretto,” she replied, then made herself close the drawer. “With a little extra.”

“You got it,” Shane said, plucking bottles from on top of the cupboards.

They slept well that night, curled up amongst the pillows and blankets with Shane’s laptop set up on the dresser across the room, glowing a faint blue. They fell asleep before it was even done, Sara nestled between Shane and Ryan, her head on Shane’s chest and Ryan’s head on her shoulder, his arm slung over her waist. Shane woke up about twenty minutes later, rubbed his eyes, and took off Ryan and Sara’s glasses (and his own) and put them all on the night table. He then carefully slid them all down to horizontal, pulled the duvet up, then stretched his long arm over Sara and Ryan before falling asleep again. Ryan, in his sleep, snuggled closer to Sara, and the laptop screen went black.

In the kitchen, three more spoons appeared in the cutlery drawer, and one appeared on the countertop.


End file.
